The Gamble
by CaptnBeck
Summary: AU. Domino City is a monster: Ravenous and ever consuming. Card games and casinos are the pulse point, especially now that the world enthralled with Duel Monsters. The cream rises to the top, but what happens to those at the bottom? When you're desperate and strapped for cash in Domino City, whose vault do you gotta crack?
1. Prologue

Domino City had a way of using you up and tossing you out at a moment's notice.

Like a duel monster card, good for a singular moment in time. But ultimately, each one was discarded at one point. An unplayed card did no good remaining stagnant in one's hand, and once played? Gone. Useless.

But a skilled strategist would even consider the discarded cards, for, with the right plan, they could always make a comeback. Rise from the ashes as something greater.

Oh, Yami did think that life could be good within the glittering city, alight with rife nightlife. That what lay in the graveyard did not have to be a collection of past mistakes. That the hand he held was not entirely useless to him.

Night had fallen over the domino skyline, but it was untouched by the darkness. There was opulence in abundance, from the sea of skyscrapers lit up like advertiser-friendly Christmas trees, to the holographic monsters that illuminated the sky, drowning out the natural light of any stars that hung above them. Dragons roared in victory, and fuzzy beasts simply cooed, and gestured the tourists to the many casinos in the city, or various eateries and hotels… So that perchance they can regain their strength to try their hand again at the one of many Duel Monster themed casinos that lay at the core of Domino's tourism industry.

Duel Monsters was the name of the game. And duels projected onto every surface imaginable, from the small television sets depicted in storefronts and nestled in the corner of diners, to the screens that wrapped around every building that stretched up like glass spires towards the synthetic-light-bleached sky. And if one wished to feel the pulse of the city. one only needed to step out onto the streets of Domino, and mingle among those who now worshiped the newest craze. Whisper the name, show a single card, no matter how worthless, and the excitement was infectious. The electricity that ran through the people was just as much as the thousand and one screens and ever lingering, like the charge in a battery.

After all, the last tournament hadn't been _too_ long ago. Less than a year. But it proved the staying power of the game. Dungeon Dice monsters was still played, but the patrons at the tables were slim pickings at the Black Crown casino, or even the most run down, back alley pop-up ones.

The newly popularized game was proving to be a true contender to the addicted gamblers of the world. Duel Monsters was relatively simple to master, its gameplay just like the city, where fate was weaved by the turn of a card.

Domino in and of itself was a tumultuous game. That when you invested a life within it, you stood a chance in hell of making it big, breaking even or losing it all. And like any good game of chance, one could be convinced that the deck was evenly balanced. That, when shuffled, everyone had an equal chance of being dealt a good or bad hand.

But for all games of chance, there was one golden rule.

 _The house always wins._

Five players stepped up to the table. A looming structure of steel and neon lights. A holographic white dragon soared overhead.

"Yeah, I can get us in." Blonde hair, blue eyes. She was the techie. The gadget and gizmo specialist. There was something wild in the way she assessed the building as if she saw ones and zeroes, and not steel and concrete walls that housed a casino that had placed Domino on the map.

"Getting in is easy. There's a front door for a reason." Brown hair, blue eyes. She was their dancer, their distracting femme fatale. Flexible, charming. There would be no resisting her once those baby blues were set upon you. Any man with a hetero bone in his body wouldn't pass up the opportunity to set their gaze on her, rather than keep them on their cards, or their wallets.

"And there's a backdoor for another." He was the shortest. But the most loyal. If ever he needed a partner in crime, he could imagine no one better than his own flesh and blood. Certainly, no one who could solve a puzzle quite like him-His hair was a testament to his patience.

"...Is that, like, a double entendre?" The blonde butchered the word, French was never supposed to be spoken by someone with such a thick Brooklyn accent. But where he lacked in intellectual linguistics, he made up for in brawn and razor-sharp reflexes. Any poor sap who found himself underneath his fist would soon question their life choices.

"For you, Jou, no." His own appearance was nothing notable, not when they had already seen his twin. Many had told him it was the timbre of his voice the most attractive feature of his person. And while he was inclined to agree, for compliment's sake, he knew the true value of his character lay in his brain.

How else would have cooked up such a harebrained scheme, and convinced four others to take the hands they had been dealt, play the cards, some face up-some face down, and wager that by the end of next week, their lives would be turned for the better?

And somewhere, maybe up there, maybe in the penthouse of the most notable building in Domino, with its flashing _'K.C'._ initials, maybe even looking down upon them, was the unknowing, unwilling sixth player.

 _No hard feelings._

When one gambles, it's never the dealer the players are after.

It was just about money.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: I have been out of writing for this fandom for well over ten years now, but this plot bunny came to me and, well, I was nervous about just uploading one seemingly random prologue while I was finishing up the first chapter, but I do hope you find it worth it! As always please leave a comment, even if it's just a hand smashed against your keyboard, and let me know what you think!

He had to start playing in better establishments.

This pop-up scene was really only for the low hanging fruit.

Six days a week, it was a warehouse like any other. Sitting at one of many impromptu tables, fashioned out of crates and stacked pallets, one could smell the lingering stench of red snapper and fancy tuna. An ice chipper even remained in the corner. A hint, or a warning. Yami decided it really depended on how well your cards were treating you that night.

He had promised to stop coming here. Places like this were just a slippery slope, and not because of the melted ice that once sat in neat stalls during the work week. But because this is what was expected of you when you knocked on the wrong door come Saturday night and slipped a couple of bills to the doorman.

Yami liked to sweeten the deal.

The Doorman paid _him._

He received double at the end of the night. Guaranteed. And in return? Well, he had long since learned the benefits of a long-term investment. One never knew when they needed a financially motivated wall of flesh to be in their pocket.

Yami thought he just might need to cash in that favor tonight.

From his looming figure to the neck tattoos, and his habit of cracking his knuckles every second turn, his opponent looked like a sore loser.

They were at one of...How many tables? Probably to the tune of two dozen. It was hard to tell through the haze of smoke and people, the sour aroma of a lesser brand of nicotine. He himself had preferred the flavored, single pack cigarettes. A little on the bougie side, but keeping his sweet tooth in mind, he often felt like he was dealing with two monkeys on his back at once. He had one tucked into the box he kept strapped at his hip-the one that would hold the cards that were now splayed on the table. He thought about lighting it if only to add something to obscure the face of the miserable son of a bitch he had the misfortune of being paired with tonight.

Instead, he added another bill to the pile.

"Yeah Mutou, getting fucking cocky with two lousy cards on the field. What you got?" He supposed that was one way to call an attack.

Yami lazily tossed his face down monster over. Circus Clown.

He withheld the urge to shudder. Who the fuck actually _enjoys_ clowns? The minute he found a card that he could work into this combo that didn't look like a _Cirque Du Soleil_ reject, this card was out. Circus Clown's effect sent Mr. Neck Tattoo's four-star monster into defense mode.

He even had the audacity to scoff at him. "You're just delaying the inevitable."

"That's not how I see it." He usually didn't bother talking. Not unless his opponent looked especially twitchy, or packing heat. In which case, he switched on the charm...Though a set of strong cheekbones and intelligent eyes were known to set his chin wagging, cranking that charm up to eleven.

Mr. Neck Tattoo wasn't his type. But he would enjoy watching the vein throb in his neck, it made the skeleton there appear as if it were having an epileptic fit.

"As I see it, I'm guiding you just to where I need to you be." Using his Circus Clown card to flip over his trap card, Tragedy was quick to join the playing field. Eliminating both of his opponent's defense position monsters.

One attack and it was over. Circus Clown wasn't even that strong, but a good opening hand had won Yami an early lead. He was never in any real peril. At least, not where the cards were concerned.

He blew a blonde lock of hair out of his face.

Though if he had waited just another minute, Mr. Neck Tats would have obliged him, lunging over the table, grabbing the edge of the jacket he kept thrown about his shoulder, acting more like a cape than anything else.

Mr. Neck Tat had a case of halitosis. _Pity_. His eyes were an almost charming shade of blue.

"You sneaky little shit. Rematch. _Now_."

"Against the rules." Because what other use was there for rules? Other than to be ignored, until they worked in his favor? These underground rings liked to remain underground. Such a thing was hard to do if the police had to turn up every weekend because of a sore loser filling someone full of lead after a miserable losing streak.

Yami braced for the punch, baring his lesser side to where he expected the brunt of the hit to be felt. He already had a scar marring his right cheek, he could do with some more collateral damage. Something he could garner a little sympathy from-he wasn't above using the tactic to secure a few free drinks, or just a warm body and a warmer bed to grace for the night.

But before Mr. Neck Tat could gift him a free meal ticket, at the small cost of temporary loss of the usual pleasing symmetry of his face, his cheap cigarette and dentist-neglected body was lifted off of him.

Yami was nearly brought back across the table too. The grip on his jacket was death-like. But Ushio _-bless him-_ had quicker reflexes than a man who was likely dipping into the powder Yami had seen dusting one of the tables as he maneuvered to his usual spot. Mr. Neck Tat was escorted _-none too kindly-_ to the floor, leaving Yami swipe both his cards and the 'pot' off the table.

Ushio would be getting a tip on top of his usual cut today.

The air outside of the warehouse was much more agreeable. No stench of acrid smoke, or the low roar of a hundred voices murmuring at once. Just a few lights that lead to the docks of Domino Pier.

Yami enjoyed his weekly walk from the underground gambling den. The scent of salty sea air and the gentle sloshing of waves beneath the boards under his feet were the perfect backdrops as he counted his take for the night. It was never anything substantial, never enough to evaluate his circumstance, but it was just enough to keep him coming back.

All was pierced by the generic ringtone of the mobile in his pocket.

His mobile phone was an ancient thing. One of those flip phones that had people at the bus stop rolling their eyes at him when he whipped it out in public like they didn't understand the point of a mobile phone that didn't double as a computer to hold his hand and navigate him through life.

Leaning against a guard rail, Yami inspected the caller ID. _Yugi_. His poor twin. Probably spending another night worrying about him. Or maybe he needed something from the corner store as he made his way home.

"What do you need, Aibou?"

A muffled sob. Ice replaced the blood in his veins.

"It's grandpa."

"How did this happen?"

Hospitals were truly wretched places. Yami held no fondness for them in his heart, no matter how skilled the staff, or how respectable the medical profession was. There was just something inherently disturbing about sterile white halls, too clean tiled floors, the scent of antiseptic hand sanitizer and latex gloves, and the constant beeping and paging and codes called out over the speaker system.

But Yami felt none of them, numb to the off-putting stimulus for once in his life.

It all seemed to be elsewhere, occurring outside of the glass dome he and Yugi seemed to be under. Trapped with the one other family member they had left in this world. With far too many wires and tubes attached to him for any one person.

Yami had seen gambling den brawls that resulted in being attached to far fewer medical instruments than his grandfather was at this moment.

Tubes with red, clear tubes, tubes with the oddest shade of green to them. He shuddered to think if it was just the color of the tubing, or whatever was held in far too many bags, or one of the too many machines. All going into a man who didn't look as if he needed them. _He was just sleeping._

It would almost be fascinating, how many machines it took to keep a human being alive, how many bags, with tubings so convoluted he couldn't clearly follow any one line, was needed to do the job of one heart.

If it wasn't his grandfather.

His grip was vice-like on his twin's shoulders. Yugi had not stopped trembling since he met with him outside of the Domino Emergency bay. The slighter boy had collapsed into his arms, like a poorly built house of cards, shattered by a stiff breeze. And for a moment, they had simply sat, half sprawled in that small parking bay meant only for emergency vehicles and police.

"They had to induce him. It's the best chance they have." But Yugi didn't sound convinced. Yami just held him tighter, as they watched the barely there signs of life. The slight rise and fall of his chest, the incessant beep of the heart monitor. It was incessant and annoying, the beeps just that right frequency that it had set off a nonsensical agitation in his shoulders...But he was thankful for it.

It meant not all hope was lost.

"Twenty percent is still a healthy chance." Not one that he would like to bet against, but he had raised on slimmer odds.

Yugi scoffed through a fresh wave of tears. "Not for heart function, Yami. I want it to be a hundred- _He was just fine, Yami_. He just was going to count some stock in the back. He was laughing and joking about the thought of Kaibacorp Casino buying us out." It had been a looming threat. Their shop was small, only dealing in Duel monster cards and paraphernalia. Being a family run business, it would be easy for any big tycoon to buy them out, or squeeze them out by selling cards for the popular game in their own establishments.

Sugoroku Mutou was always hopeful that it would never happen to them. That their place had a heart. And every city, no matter how big and consumed by greed, needed to have a heart _somewhere_.

It all felt painfully ironic now. For him to be found face down over his own glass case of cards, gasping for breath, before succumbing to the unrest in his own aging heart.

Yami wished it had been him who had found him. Yugi's shoulders were too narrow to bear this burden.

"What are we going to do, Yami?" His twin lifted his head, peering at him through dyed bangs, much like his own. "They don't know how long he's going to be like this. And we…We're still behind in _last_ month's bills, so we can't close the shop…"

If only a shop with a big heart could mean a big payout as well.

But being kind was hardly profitable in this day and age.

"I can take care of things."

Yugi's hand covered his own. When their violet gazes met again, his naive twin seemed to have aged ten years. " _We_ can take care of things."


End file.
